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359 pages, Paperback
First published April 15, 2023



Lancelet and I walked back to the wooden block of rooms that served as both change rooms and equipment storage for female knights. There were fewer and fewer of them since my brother began his rule–just one of many foul symptoms of his reign
When I reached her side, I grabbed my bow, then untethered her and slapped her side, sending her whinnying and racing away from the campsite.
“Those three men may have had families, children. I believe they were simply desperate to gain your ear, Arthur, and they saw me as a tool to do so. They wouldn’t have hurt me."
“Everywhere I go, my hair tells the story of what I am. That my father believed me unworthy to sit on the throne and only fit to serve in the temple as reparation for whatever sin had been committed that caused me to be born this way.”
"She’s right. You’re not a hunter. You’re a spineless butcher.”
He shrugged. “What did your mother look like?” I stared at him.
“She was beautiful. Golden hair.”
“Well, then. That doesn’t seem so bad.”
“You do realize I was not permitted to take the throne because of my tainted bloodline"
“You’d think she might want Arthur to have the sword,” I said thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t that end the war? Help us win?”
Lancelet’s face was horrified. “Is that what you want, Morgan? For us to dominate Lyonesse? And Tintagel?”
“No, of course not,” I said hotly. “But what’s the alternative? Arthur has gotten Pendrath into a terrible position. I don’t wish for our people to suffer either.”
“You know what. I’m exhausted and I don’t think I even care right now. This sword that everyone is so obsessed with... I don’t even know if I believe it exists. I wish I were home. Right now, in Camelot, with Kaye. That’s honestly all I care about. Not a stupid fucking sword that Arthur could use to destroy the world. I don’t even want to think about that part.”
As he boosted Odelna higher up on his shoulder, Draven’s eyes met mine. “Get inside. Now!” he bellowed, leaning forward to slap a hand to the piebald’s hindquarters. The horse bolted forward into the cavernous entrance. An instant later I understood his concern. A dark swarm had formed overhead, thousands of wings beating in unison as they circled overhead. We clearly weren't going to win this fight, especially with a small child.
I wanted him. More than anything I had ever wanted before.
Because somehow I knew that he would never leave me.
“You have no idea what kind of a monstrosity she’d be save for that concoction she takes each night. Why, she has the hair of a crone.”
“And that bothers you, does it, Whitehorn? You are offended by a woman’s hair color?” Draven said coldly.
“The night you suddenly vanished? Without even saying goodbye? How could I forget?” Her voice was dry.
“Oh, ignore that stupid thing,” the fae woman called. “A foolish rhyme, written long before you were born. Take the sword. Nothing will not harm you, I swear it.”
“Time to go. I have my own war to wage, you see. My enemies have slumbered in peace for far too long."
“A political marriage, of course.” Arthur seemed surprised that I had to ask. “Is that not what is done with most daughters of noble blood?”
Not when the daughter was the eldest in a monarchy that had traditionally permitted sons or daughters to inherit the throne.
But in my case...
Like a particular brand of men all too often do, he turned that fury onto his children.
I could have let him die that day. Perhaps most other children would have.
"must you always be hiding under that hood?”